Reality's truth
by SheS writer
Summary: What if life were like an anime? People living when the odds were against them? Demons turned to heroes? Could you live like that? Because my friends are and they dragged me into it. This is a new type of story. Multiple lives all written in the third perspective. And the funny thing is...it still hasn't ended.
1. Chapter 1

Could you imagine what life would be like if it were an anime? Inhuman people running about, not being able to die…despite the odds stacked against you. It doesn't seem like that could ever happen. But it has and is still ongoing. How do I know? I'm living in the anime myself. However, this story isn't really about me. I am only a supporting character to the others involved in the plot. This story is about my friends and what they have experienced; both the living and the dead.

Maximus

It began with death. A young girl ran into the street to retrieve her runaway ball. The truck didn't have enough time to stop and the father didn't have enough time to grab her. Her premature death caused her parents to find out the gender of their second unborn baby and their hope formed from having whatever to having a girl. They wanted to replace the girl they had lost. But their second child was a boy. Abortion was too late and adoption would result in the parents no longer getting money from their parents. Neither one of them could live without their money. Instead, his mother attempted to have a miscarriage through alcohol and drug use. Their son was born prematurely at thirty-two weeks. He was born with a hole in his heart and was very weak. His parents named him Maximus Peter White. They were sure that he would die, especially when he had to undergo a surgery that ended in just a patch job. Maximus did survive and grew with a heart condition and neglectful parents. He developed anxiety and was prescribed medication to keep his anxiety at bay to keep his heart from being damaged even more. Unfortunately, Maximus's mother using drugs during her pregnancy caused him to be born with a better chance at becoming dependent on drugs.

As Maximus aged, his dependency grew worse. He was underweight and fearful of his parents. At school, he was an outcast. People thought he was just a stuck of rich kid whom thought himself better than the others. Teachers didn't seem concerned about his somewhat bony exterior and never asked any questions.

Not only was Maximus an outcast due to his heart defect, anxiety and parents, but also because Maximus had a gift or curse, depending on whom perceives it, of seeing the dead. There are many names for this and Maximus thought of himself as a freak, even though many others, including me, disagree with his thinking.

Maximus saw the dead wherever he traveled. There were dead outside the school, inside the school, in his neighborhood and in his house. His sister was always roaming around the house, but unlike the other spirits; Maximus's sister wouldn't talk or even acknowledge that he could see her.

Maximus didn't mind, though. He welcomed his sister's silence. The other spirits were not as kind and would pester Maximus for his help. The only escape he had were his medications. He would take large doses of his medication before he would sleep. The doses were never enough to kill him, but let him sleep through the screaming spirits.

It was somewhat difficult for Maximus to recognize the difference between the dead, living and the things his drugged mind created. He was sometimes unsure whether people were there that he was seeing or if the voices he heard were just in his head.

Either way, he felt better when he was high. He was invincible, in his mind. It was that kind of thinking that caused him to overstep.

Maximus's father was drunk and Maximus was high. They'd met like this numerous times. His father would normally mouth off and Maximus would just accept it. He was too high to ever really care. But the comments would sit on his mind and bubble. They became food for the fire in his heart. Compassion, love…happiness; those emotions didn't exist for him. In a way, that's what made him just like his parents and he hated it.

Maximus's wanted love. He wanted someone to make him feel more than angry. He was ten now. He knew his life wasn't going to change unless he changed it himself. So, the night that Maximus came home and saw his father sitting on the couch with Vodka and a plate of Spaghetti, that Maximus couldn't have; Maximus got angrier than he'd been his whole life.

"Heh, you still living? Must not be starving you enough." His father snarled.

Maximus shook his head and stopped at the base of the stairs. He couldn't take it anymore.

"Why can't you just shut the fuck up?!" He snapped. "You're always shitting on me and why?! Because you can't just hate yourself for killing your own daughter! You use me to hate on so that you don't hate yourself! You were the one that had her on the yard that day! You should've stopped her! You know that! So why didn't you?! And why don't you just do your daughter a favor and end your pathetic excuse of a life?! Maybe then she won't mope around the God damn house!"

By this time, Maximus's sister wasn't pretending anymore. She was right next to him, trying to cover his mouth. She knew that he was in danger. But the damage was done. Maximus's father was over his edge.

"Little shit!" His father leaped off the couch and headed toward the kitchen. "You've overstayed your welcome!" His father was banging around.

"Drunk ass can't even walk straight." Maximus muttered under his breath.

His sister tried to push him away, but she didn't have the energy. All she could do was plead with her eyes and attempt to save him. When their father's shadow appeared in the doorway, she looked like she was about to cry.

"Daddy is going to kill you!" She screamed.

His father emerged from the kitchen with a red, sweaty face. "You pissed 'cause you can't eat our food?! Is that the problem?! Well, here, eat some fucking lead!"

Maximus felt his heart jump into his throat when he saw the gun in his father's hands and watched as he pulled the trigger.


	2. Chapter 2

Timothy

"You're going to die, Kara." Their father was persistent. "We already have two, sweetheart. We don't need a third"

"Drake, this is our baby. I'm keeping it." Kara was set in her decision to have her third child. She wasn't about to kill an unborn baby.

Kara and Drake had two beautiful children. A boy and a girl, both inheriting their brown eyes and hair from their father. They had a happy marriage and were deeply in love with each other. However, their marriage wasn't without its speed bumps.

Kara had a weak heart. She barely survived the birth of her second child. She wasn't supposed to get pregnant again. But accidents happen and Kara's love for her unborn child was stronger than her instinct of self-protection.

"I won't let you die." Drake was on the verge of tears. Kara was his beautiful angel. They had met at a dance their senior year of college. Kara's midnight blue eyes and black hair captivated Drake. He loved her from the very moment that he had saw her. She was his Kara.

"I'm not going to die, Drake." Kara shrugged. "The doctors are wrong. I lived through Christopher's birth and I can live through this baby too."

At first it seemed like Kara was right. Four months passed and nothing happened. At five months along, Timothy Edward Chambers was named.

But then, the fainting spells began. Kara became weaker every day. She was in and out of hospitals for two months. Every time she was there, Drake would beg her to terminate. Kara refused right up until the point of no return.

A plan was made for Timothy to be born early. However, more complications arose. Timothy's lungs were developing slowly, despite the use of steroids and his heart had an arrhythmia like his mother. Her arrhythmia worsened as Timothy grew inside her.

"Damn it, Kara! That demon is killing you!" He shouted as she lay in her hospital bed.

"He's not a demon." Kara's voice was weak.

The machines beeped around her. Her son sat on the floor playing with a toy car while her daughter stood next to her bed, holding her hand. Her son, Christopher, was only three years old and Patty, her daughter, was seven. Christopher didn't really know or understand what was happening. Patty understood, at least, she understood a little.

She knew that her mother was sick but didn't fully understand just how sick she was.

"Mommy, why is daddy yelling at you?" Patty squeezed her mother's frail hand.

"Because daddy's angry with mommy." Kara smiled at her daughter.

"Because you won't listen to me!" Drake screamed. "You won't even let the doctor's induce you~"

"He's not ready!" Kara began to cough. "His lungs aren't ready! And you heard what they said about his heart!"

"It can't be helped from in there, Kara!" Drake grabbed her hand. "He's as close as he can be without killing you! He's ready Kara!" Drake began to cry. "Please, Kara! He's ready! Please! There's still a chance that you could live. Please."

"Mommy, why are you sick?" Patty asked.

"Mommy's heart has a hiccup, baby." Kara tried to sound strong. "It hiccups more when mommy has a baby in her tummy. But mommy's going to be okay. She's had two baby's and she's going to have a third."

"But Tim won't hurt mommy?" Patty asked.

"No, he's going to _kill_ mommy." Drake spat. "That thing inside your mother is a monster. It's going to kill mommy because mommy wouldn't kill it first."

"Just shut up, Drake! This baby is your son! Timothy is our son!" Kara's heart rate dropped.

Doctors rushed in, pushing the family back. They said things that Patty couldn't understand. Kara's bed was wheeled into the delivery room with the family close behind.

"Mrs. Chambers, it's time." A doctor said. "Can you hear me? Kara?"

Kara opened her eyes and glared into the eyes of her husband. "This is our son. It's in my will. You keep him or you lose them all."

"Mrs. Chambers, we're going to do a cesarean. Your baby is in distress." Her doctor told her.

Her eyes rolled in the back of her head. She was unconscious, fading fast.

Drake was forced to wait in the waiting area. He took his kids' hands and looked at his daughter.

"Pray for your mama, Patty." Tears were in his eyes. "I'm sure God will hear you louder than he will me."

"We're sorry, Mr. Chambers." The doctor's words cut into Drake's soul. "We did everything to try and resuscitate your wife. We were unsuccessful. We are truly sorry."

"Daddy, what does that mean?" Patty tugged on Drake's arm.

"Mommy's dead!" Drake shouted. "That monster inside her killed her! The monster..." Drake grew quiet. "Is it dead? Did it die too?"

"No sir. We were able to resuscitate the child." The doctor said, hesitantly. "Would you like to see him?"

Rage engulfed Drake's heart. His whole world fell apart in short of three hours.

"No." He growled. "I don't want to see it."

A month passed before Timothy could go home. He started life off as a sick boy. But Drake didn't visit Timothy once and the day Timothy was to be sent home, it was Kara's mother that brought him home. Drake's heart broke all over again when he first laid eyes on Timothy. Out of the three children, Timothy was born with his mother's hair and eyes.

"Fuck." Drake gasped. Seeing Timothy only angered him more. "It stole her looks."

"Drake, he's beautiful." Kara's mother scolded. "Timothy is a beautiful boy. Kara would be proud." She tried to hand Timothy to Drake who backed away.

"I don't want that thing." He spat.

"Drake, Kara gave her life for this little angel." Kara's mother became agitated. "He's your son and he needs you."

Patty watched from the corner. She didn't fully understand why her father was angry at her brother or why her grandmother was angry at her father. She did understand one thing, however, and that was that her baby brother was beautiful.

"Daddy...is that baby brother?" She finally broke up. "He looks just like mommy." She carefully approached her grandmother. "Can I hold him?"

Her grandmother nodded. "Hold up his head and be very gently with him." She smiled. "He's fragile."

"Does his heart have a hiccup like mommy's?" Patty asked, staring down at Timothy's tiny face.

"Yeah." Her father answered. "With any luck it'll die from it."

"Drake!"

"Daddy no!" Patty screamed, causing Timothy to begin to cry. "Baby brother can't die! I won't let him!"

"Then he's your responsibility." Drake's voice was cold.

"Drake, stop it!" Kara's mother no longer tried to hide her anger. "You stop that right now! How can you be so cold toward your own child?!"

"Kara said I had to keep it or I lose my children, right?" He glared at Patty. "Well, I didn't say anything about caring for it."

"Drake, if anything happens to that boy, I swear I will have you arrested." Kara's mother was firm. "You will care for that boy. Understood?"

"Fine." Drake said. "Now get out."

"I'll see you very soon." Kara's mother glared at Drake. "Very very soon." She stormed out of the house.

Drake glared down at Timothy and then at Patty. "That thing is your responsibility. If anything happens to it then you and Christopher will be taken away from daddy and separated. You will never see me or Christopher again. Do you want that to happen?"

"No daddy." Patty was scared. "I promise, I won't let anything happen to baby brother."

"Good." Drake patted Patty's head as he passed her to go to the kitchen. "I'm getting a beer."


	3. Chapter 3

Brittany

Her parents sat on the couch, naked. A sweet smell permeated the air. Brittany sat on the trash-covered floor playing with her headless doll, while her parents smoked something brown.

Brittany was three and the accident of her parents. She was born on the very couch her parents sat. It was a miracle that she'd lived this long.

"Momma, I'm hungry." She stared into her mother's bloodshot eyes.

"You know where the food is." Her mother snorted. "But before you go, give mama that needle over there."

Brittany dropped her doll and walked over to the table where an uncapped needle lay on it. She picked it up and handed it to her mother. She then walked into the kitchen before she had to watch her mother stick the needle into her arm.

Brittany scavenged around the kitchen. Every cabinet had empty boxes or busted cans with bugs crawling out of them. Brittany sighed. Her parents had forgotten to go to the store again. It wouldn't be long before they went shopping, though. They were smoking their magic sticks, as they liked to call them. Their magic sticks made them hungry.

"Mama, we don't have any food!" She shouted anyway, hoping that they'd go shopping sooner than later. Her mother didn't answer, though. Brittany's hope for food dimmed when she realized that just one shot must've knocked her mother out.

Her father was a helpless case. He wouldn't even acknowledge Brittany until he came came down from his high. Although, her father was doing better at staying high. Her father would probably end up knocking himself out soon too.

So Brittany decided to do what she always does after her parents went out; she walked out the front door.

That day was a chilly day. The snow would soon be falling and her walks would become more difficult, especially without a coat to wear. Brittany walked up the dirt path from her parents' trailer. She was going to town to look at all the beautiful houses. She dreamed of someday living in one of those large, decorated houses.

There was one house in particular that she loved. It was a medium-sized house, painted white with a black roof and a brown front door. A family lived there. A father and two children occupied the home. She never talked to the family, though. She only ever saw them from their windows. Something was different on that day, however, because when she passed the house she saw the eldest child, a girl, holding a male child.

The boy looked about her age but he looked nothing like the other children. He had black hair and his eyes looked darker than the other two children. Brittany thought maybe the boy had been adopted by the family.

She thought about walking up to the house and asking. It wouldn't be an unreasonable act. And they might even give her food. After all, she was a child like them. They might have some compassion for her. She'd have a real place to hide out. Maybe even a pretend family for a little bit.

She was just about to walk up the sidewalk to their house when she noticed something. It was a tiny detail, but a significant one nonetheless. The girl had tears streaming down her cheeks.

Brittany stopped in her tracks. She didn't want to interrupt if something bad happened. So she turned and walked near the closest store. The store would be warm and it always had samples that she could eat.

She was never afraid of being out on her own. No one in town was more frightening than the people that her parents met for their drugs.

The doors slid open. Brittany walked past the various fruits and samples of a type of bread. Brittany took two samples.

"Hello young lady, where are your parents?" An elderly woman smiled. Her gray hair was pulled up and tucked into a hairnet. She wore a green hat and an kind smile. She handed Brittany two samples.

"Shopping." Brittany lied like she had many times before.

Sometimes people would take notice of Brittany. A three year old on their own can't always hide in plain site. But she learned to like fast and she learned to lie well.

"You shouldn't run off from your parents you know." The woman lectured her, half teasing. "It's not safe sweetheart."

"My mama knows where I am." Brittany smiled. "Thank you."

"Do you need help getting back to her?" The woman asked.

"No." Brittany smiled. "Bye bye." She promptly left the store. She never stayed for too long and didn't want to risk someone asking too many questions.

She rubbed her arms on the way home. The sun was starting to go down and a breeze began to blow. Brittany passed the school. She wasn't sure if she would ever get to go there. She'd never been to a doctor, nor any other professional-type person. She'd only ever known her house and the secluded places her parents took her.

When she finally arrived back to the trailer, her parents' breaths fogged in the air. Brittany grabbed the nearest blanket and draped it over their naked bodies. She maneuvered her way into her room, trying hard not to step on any needles.

When she finally reached her corner of the trailer, she laid down on her blanket and pillow. She covered herself and sighed.

"Wake up mama." She muttered. "You need to get food."


End file.
